Dense
by jennaymai
Summary: God, she loved him when he was being dense. DG


**Disclaimer:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**Author's Note:** Blame Vaberella (aka The Puppeteer) who sparked this whole thing when she said "ever thought of having a man take interest in Ginny?" and made me realize that I really needed to write a happy story instead of pure angst (although angst is lots of fun!). And, voila, we have this little ficlet. I actually quite like it, surprisingly enough, seeing as it was another of those hour-long jobs. It was fun to write!

Anyways, let me know what you think :grins:

o-o-o

God, she loved him when he was being dense. There was just something about the way that he squinted at her, confusion clouding his eyes and rumpling his forehead. The way that his ice-blonde hair fell into his eyes when he shook his head dazedly, trying to figure it out. Really, it was at times like this when she realised just how much she truly loved him.

It was also the times that she felt closest to killing him.

Because, honestly, there's a time to be hotly oblivious – and is something that she generally enjoyed – but sometimes, she would really appreciate that so-called rapier wit of his cutting in. Like now, for instance. After all, how hard could it be to figure out what she wanted? It wasn't like she'd cloaked it in vague hints, or presented it in an even _vaguely _cryptic manner – in fact, she'd quite clearly been leading up to this point for quite some time now. 3 months, to be precise – ever since she woke up one morning, tired from sneaking back into the dorm at 2 in the morning so their relationship wouldn't be discovered, and decided that she didn't want to hide it anymore. She wanted everyone to know that he was hers, and that it wasn't about to change so they had just better _back off_.

She was all for being able to snog him in the middle of the Great Hall, accompanying him on Hogsmeade weekends – or, at the very least, being able to talk to him in public without exchanging childish insults! After all, they had been going out for about 5 months now – most of the year, really, and it was his last year here so she had to make the most of it. Surely it wasn't too much to ask, to be able to let people know about their relationship?

Unfortunately, he hadn't seemed to be picking up on the subtle hints she'd sent his way after making her decision, so she upped her tactics a little. She started introducing topics revolving around how nice it would be to be able to kiss him whenever she wanted (often accompanied by a demonstration of how exactly she would go about this), or how good it would be to be able to sit and relax with him instead of hurrying through their meetings, fearing discovery. This last suggestion, however, had the unfortunate effect of him leaning back on his heels and asking if she wanted him to stop kissing her in future so they could have deep and meaningful conversations. Frantically back-peddling, she'd assured him that no, that wasn't what she wanted at all, she just thought that- and he'd silenced her in the most effective (and enjoyable) way he knew how.

That seemed to happen an awful lot in this strange relationship of theirs – whenever she started in on a topic that he had an aversion to, he went about distracting her in the most delicious annoying way possible. Not that she protested at the time (she was otherwise occupied, after all) but afterwards, when she was sans Draco and his many distractions, she thought back and realised that she really hadn't finished whatever point she was trying to get across to him. And it's not like she could talk to him during the day, either – she'd tried once, only to be told to run along and lick Potter's boots like a good little Weasel (though, admittedly, broadsiding him at the crowded Slytherin table probably hadn't been her best idea ever). Still, he'd been treated to a liberal dose of Weasley temper that night, before promising never to call her that again – as long as, he added, she never attempted to speak to him civilly in public again. That request was so twisted, it took her a while to figure it out and by the time it had settled in that he _really_ didn't want anyone to know about them, she was back in Gryffindor tower and unable to speak to him until the next night, when he distracted her – again. This cycle _really _had to stop.

Although she'd concede that their entire relationship had been somewhat whacked, right from the start when she'd flown at him in a fit of temper and ended up snogging him against a wall. So maybe it was a bit of a stretch to expect him to turn and behave like this was an _average_ pairing – but still, it wasn't like she was asking for _that_ much. A little publicity, a little recognition, and a rather large warning sent out to those Slytherettes who draped themselves all over him at every opportunity. She knew that he was a damn fine hunk of man who was almost impossible to resist, but he was _her_ hunk and she was getting mighty tired of that skank Pansy Parkinson practically sitting in his lap at every meal. Not that she could do anything about it, being his mortal enemy and all that.

Just in public, of course - by themselves, they were simply Draco and Ginny, two people who were in love. Well, she figured that he loved her – although he'd never actually said it. Truth be told, a fairly large part of why she wanted to go public was that it would be a test of how much he truly cared for her. Would he face down the brave-to-the-point-of-being-stupid Gryffindors for her? Would he shield her from the ridicule of the rest of the school? Would he brave the disdain of his own house for her?

OK, so maybe she was being a little overdramatic. Most of the school probably wouldn't even care – it's not like he was getting with Harry, after all (she hoped) – she wasn't nearly as bad by comparison. And the only Slytherins that would care would be the female population, and only because they would no longer be allowed within 10 feet of her man. Their evilness, she'd discovered, was highly overrated – probably a propaganda trick implemented by Dumbledore, who just loved stirring the pot and then sitting back to watch. She was sure he was more than slightly touched in the head – after all, you've heard about his brother… anyway.

The only person who would probably care overmuch would be her own beloved brother, who seemed to take delight in tormenting Draco for no reason at all. OK, so maybe he had a slight, extremely tiny reason (like Draco incessantly winding him up about anything and everything possible) but he really could make more of an effort to resist. Although Draco could be mightily provocative when he set his mind to it… anyway, Ron would be, without a doubt, the one she'd have to work hardest to appease. Harry was far too caught up in the whole saving-the-world thing to worry overmuch about her and Draco, and Hermione had more than a slight crush on a Slytherin herself (the erstwhile, intelligent and extremely hot Blaise Zabini) so she probably wouldn't care much either. Still, she could handle Ron and under no circumstances would he be getting anywhere near Draco if he did find out about them – not if she had anything to do with it.

So, she really didn't have any idea why Draco was so opposed to the idea of letting people know about them. Well, she assumed he was opposed to it – no one could be _that_ dense, he had to have figured out what she was getting at by now. Especially after she'd tried that tactic of saying how much fun it would be to annoy Ron by telling him about them (along with telling everyone else) – there was just something in the way he'd grinned at her, with a spark of evil amusement in his eyes, that told her that he understood what she wanted perfectly. Which was good, because this clueless act of his was getting old.

Now, only one teensy-tiny problem remained – how to convince him that letting people know was the right thing to do. OK, so it was a rather large problem that took up all of her spare time, but maybe thinking of it as small would somehow make it less daunting.

Or, then again, maybe it wouldn't.

It was this very problem that was occupying her mind at the moment, as she sat in the Great Hall at breakfast, studiously ignoring the Slytherin table where Draco was, once again, surrounded by his little band of groupies. The first step, in her mind, was getting him to admit how he felt about her – once he admitted that he loved her, he'd surely be more receptive to telling others. Right? Right. But the question is, how to accomplish that all-important step?

He couldn't be waiting for her to tell him first, seeing as she'd blurted out that fact months ago, right after he'd done an extremely clever thing with his tongue on her neck that turned her into mush. She'd frozen afterwards, afraid of how he'd react (he wasn't, after all, the most demonstrative of guys) but he only lifted his head, gave her a grin that made her weak at the knees, and continued his administrations. Since then, she'd told him often, trying different tactics to get him to say it back. Springing it on him at random moments hoping to startle it out of him hadn't worked, and neither had murmuring it teasingly at an opportune moment. He'd simply looked at her, with that damn amused spark back in his eye, and continued with what he'd been doing. She had the feeling that he somehow saw through her devious plan.

So, as she sat there toying with her eggs, an annoyed frown rumpling her forehead, she tried to concoct a new plan. Right, first things first – write it down. She pulled out a piece of parchment and wrote a title at the top.

_The One and Only Plan to Make Hot, Delicious, Insufferable Slytherin Git Admit His Love_. OK, so it wasn't the most original title ever, but it got the message across.

Now that she had that down, she started planning the rest of her attack – with just one problem. She still had no idea what to do. So, she sat there chewing the end of her quill, hoping for inspiration to swoop down and strike her. Nothing happened for about 5 minutes, and she was getting heartily sick of the taste of feather, when a lean, excited body slid into the seat next to hers and an Irish voice interrupted her musings.

"Gin-girl! What's happened to put that gloomy expression on your face, marring your otherwise flawless complexion?"

Seamus bloody Finnegan. He was like this with everyone, more so when he'd had too much sugar – highly excitable, outrageously extroverted, and a complete and utter flirt. It wasn't something he did on purpose, it was just in his genes – but why did he have to pick _now _to come try to charm her? Although it wasn't like she was getting anywhere with her devious planning, so it really didn't matter much. Rolling up the parchment so he couldn't read the title (he might get a little curious, and a curious Seamus was not easily distracted. It would take at least 20 chocolate frogs to bribe him to go away, and then he was likely to eat them all at once, get on a sugar high and blurt out to Ron that his sister loved a Slytherin. Far easier to just hide it.) She turned and smiled at him.

"What do you want, Finnegan?" Said with an affectionate smile, because really, it was impossible to look at him and not be cheerful. He was just so adorably puppy-ish!

He grinned back, irrepressible, and grabbed her hand to haul her out of her seat before twirling them into an impromptu dance. Dipping her back, both of them bubbling with laughter, he answered, "Why, nothing Gin my love! Nothing but the privilege of gazing upon your wondrous features in awestruck amazement."

Giggling, she grabbed him in a spontaneous hug amongst the scattered applause of their housemates, grateful for his sunny interruption after all. Then she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned, still sparkling with happiness, laughter lingering on her lips – only to be yanked into a kiss that could only be described as possessive. And hot – did she mention hot? Stunned, she simply stood there for a few seconds – shocked by the fact that Draco was kissing her in the middle of the Great Hall, surrounded by most of their schoolmates and teachers. Guess he didn't mind the publicity after all, but why now, why-

And then his tongue swept into her mouth, and she stopped thinking at all.

Several minutes later, he released her and she opened her eyes, only to see him scowling down at her. Still slightly dizzy, she smiled back at him, happiness sparking through her veins, confusion shining from her eyes.

"Why?" Her voice was slightly hoarse, and while she was aware of the gasps and murmurs around them, nothing was more important at the moment than his answer.

"It's all bloody Finnegan's fault." His voice wasn't much better, and the roughness of it sent another wave of sparks through her, but first she needed to understand what the bloody hell he meant. She nodded encouragingly, nudging him to continue.

He leant down again, forehead touching hers. "His hands were touching you, he was dancing with you, you were hugging him – and the only person that was allowed to do any of those things with you is me."

All the breath gushed out of her, and she dazzled him with a blinding smile – that was almost as good as telling her he loved her. Almost. Inspiration finally swooped down, and as she slid her hands into his hair, bringing him closer, she whispered in what she hoped was a seductive voice, "and why is that, Malfoy?"

He drew back a little, and she could see that damn amused glint in his eyes again. But it seemed he was willing to concede this victory to her, and he grinned at her as he growled back, "because I love you, Weaslette, and because you're mine."

Ignoring the new chorus of gasps that were making their way around the hall, disregarding Ron's frantic attempts to get to them (thankfully, he was being held back by four other boys), she smiled softly up at him and whispered, "perfect."

And as he smirked down at her, before grabbing her hand and leading her somewhere a little more private, she was filled with a sense of triumph. She really was very good at devious plots – everything had turned out exactly the way she wanted. True, she had been helped along by various outside influences (:cough: Seamus :cough:) but, really, it was all because of her – and she was probably imagining that knowing grin of Draco's. He most likely didn't have a clue.

After all, she did love him when he was being dense.

o-o-o

Let me know what you think of it!

Cheers,  
Jenny :)


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